Damn It All
by Laverva McGown
Summary: As Sherlock embarks on a journey to discover himself, he ends off biting off more than he can chew.
1. Chapter 1

"Damn it all," I muttered aggressively, my head spinning with all kinds of malice. This was NOT a good day for me – no, not at all. First of all, my slave had run off, leaving me to stir my hot chocolate into my mug all by myself – and then having to actually put my spoon in the sink – with NO AID – how terrible! "Crap yo, Watson," I screamed, flooring my limo into the parking lot. I heard a faint shriek in the distance, but ignored it. I don't have time for this crap.

I got out of the car, saw a mutilated body, and entered the shopping centre. "To the chemist," I mumbled to myself, trying to remember how exactly one shops. "Perhaps it involves – human interaction," I realized, a light bulb dawning in my head. "This – this – this cannot be so! I'm not a SOICAL person, I – I should not have to lower myself to these commoner's standards! I AM A GOD! YOU ARE ALL NOTHING!" I screamed.

Upon entering the supermarket, I couldn't help but notice something strange. After a while I had to acknowledge the truth of the matter:

There were people here. In the shops. With _me_. Unacceptable.

"Get out of my way," I snarled, shoving on elderly lady and her young granddaughter onto the cement ground. "Coming through!" Increasing carnage gathering around me, pushed my way to the front of the milk aisle. "Where the HELL is the full cream milk?!" I threw my arms up in the air in frustration, "How can I be expected to dine on this-this-this _skim_ milk?! _Atrocity upon atrocity!_"

"Uhm..." a young mortal in blue clothing approached me, defiling me with his presence, "Can you not? It's, like, wrong to say stuff like that..."

I gazed imperiously down at him. "Shut," I said, "the HELL up."

"_What_?" he snapped. I snapped my fingers and the simpering creature I generously called my slave appeared, dressed in brown mortal clothing.

"Yes!?" he exclaimed, and I held a hand to my head. _Me_...I thought in agony, _It's only been half a minute and I already have a headache..._

"This piece of carrion is offending me," I pointed at the angry-looking mortal, who was talking into a phone-like device. Several people surrounded me and my slave and looked angrily at us.

Ah, humans are such an amusing species.


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you think," I gazed at the human in disgust, barely suppressing a shudder at his revolting presence, "that you can intimidate me with mere numbers? Haha," I laughed sadistically.

"What do you wish me to do, master?" the slave simpered, taking the blue-clothed mortal by the collar of his clothing, "Mutilate him? Eradicate him!? _Destroy him!?_"

I petted the poor man's head, and he let out a squeak of happiness. Much like the squeak of a cat.

"Mmm," I mused, "How about you bring him to the Mansion so I can decide from there?"

"Of course master!" Watson agreed all-to-eagerly, "On it master! Right away master!"

I left the supermarket with the rest of my shopping, ignoring the beeping sounds of the alarms going off behind me. My slave followed, dragging the struggling mortal with him.

"Master," my slave squealed, "were you aware of the social convention in which you must pay before leaving the shop?"

"Such mortal rules are not for me," I replied coldly, kicking him.

"O-of course!"

~at the mansion~

"MATILDA!" I bellowed, dragging my slave behind me.

A flustered, weak-looking mortal woman scurried out from behind a bookshelf and bowed at my feet, licking my shoes.

"Matilda," I said through gritted teeth, "_where _is my hot chocolate?!"

"It..." the woman cowered, undoubtedly overawed by my presence, "We have no milk, my master-."

"_What_!?" I grabbed her by her hair and yanked her head so that she was eyes to eye with me- I had trouble maintaining eye-contact, as the mere _sight _of mortals is disgusting to me. I stepped on the shopping bags, crushing the groceries and spilling the contents everywhere. Including the milk.

"You drank it all-..."

"I CALL BULLSHIT!" I screamed at her, shoving her to the ground, "I ALWAYS MAKE SURE THERE IS MORE FOR MY NEXT HOT CHOCOLATE! YOU MUST HAVE DRANK IT, YOU DOUBLE-FACE WHORE!" I spat at her and turned to my slave, who was staring at me in complete adoration.

"Slave," I said in an imperious voice, and he stood up from his grovelling position at once, "Go fetch me some milk from the shops!"

"But-."

"NOW, DAMN IT, NOW!"

He skulked out of the room, and I strode to my 98th bedroom on the 67th floor in this house. Entering the grandiose elevator, I punched in the number "67" onto the sterling silver numberpad and started pacing, waiting for the elevator to stop. It came to a grinding halt a few seconds later, yet the doors remained closed. I peered at the numberpad.

It said "Floor 67."

"MATILDA!" I shrieked, and there was the sound of a body slamming against the closed platinum doors. How do I know what the sound of bodies slamming against doors? Experience, seeing as mortals part like the sea when _I _am nearby.

"Yes!?" I hear Matilda's irritatingly high-pitched voice through the solid doors.

"The damn doors are stuck _again_!" I snapped, "YOU FORGOT TO BLOODY OIL THEM _AGAIN_, DIDN'T YOU, BITCH!?"

"I-...yes."

"STUPID HOE!"

The doors were wrenched open 4 hours later, and I shoved the sweating, oil-covered, exhausted Matilda to the ground, saying over my shoulder,

"I expect my dinner in 30 minutes, woman!"

I slammed the door to my room and flung myself into my ornate, alpaca-wool, pure ruby-sequined office chair and rolled over to my grandiose desk that was made with the last tree of a certain tree species, and embroidered with platinum and silver and gold.

It was a beautiful desk. Not as beautiful as me, but still.

"SLAVE!" I called loudly, and my slave appeared at my feet instantly, bowing and grovelling like the cockroach he was.


	3. Chapter 3

"Yes my lord!?" The simpering idiot grovelled, "At your word, I will be there for you! I will cross the deepest ocean, survive the hottest volcano-lava, tramp through the most dangerous of forests to answer your call! I will answer your every question, do your every wish, BURN ANYTHING THAT DARES GET IN YOUR WAY, OH, MY LORD! _I WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING THAT PUTS A HALT TO YOUR EXOTIC, AMAZING, INTELLEGENT, BEAUTIFUL PLANS! I-!"_

"Yes, yes," I waved my hand dismissively, "But, have you gotten the milk?"

"...Yes, master."

"..." I felt a strange pain welling up inside me. It burned, and it felt like that time I ate 50 chillies at once. I shuddered at the thought.

_No! _I screamed within the vaults of my perfect mind, _It cannot be! I, the supreme God of Everything, am feeling...g...grat...Oh, me! Grati...GRATITUDE! Gratitude towards a small worm of a mortal! My Me..._

I shook my head, the dark, luscious locks of hair whipping with my sharp head movement.

"Slave..." I crossed my arms over my thin chest and huffed, "Just...make me a coffee. NOW." I glared, and the mortal scurried away, leaving me in my amazingly deep thoughts.

~Dinnertime~

"MATILDA!" I spat out the foul food item which had offended my tastebuds so, "THIS FOOD IS SLIGHTLY OVERCOOKED! _THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!_"

The whorish mortal woman dropped the platinum cutlery on the ground at the sound of my majestic voice, and she looked as frightened as a gazelle spotted by a leopard alone in the middle of the featureless plains of Africa.

In that (ingenious) metaphor, I am the leopard. She is the gazelle.

"I-I'm sorry!" she cried, scurrying to pick up the cutlery, "I only just finished dinner as you came down-!"

"_Atrocious behaviour! _" I stood up and pushed her onto the ground; she spilt the cutlery again. Clumsy mortal.

"I," I hissed at her; she was tremnbling at my awesome power and presence, "am a _God_, and you are nothing. I expect my meals to be _fit _for a God, do you understand!?"

"Yes..."

"_WHAT!_" I screamed at her.

"...Yes, my most humble, benign lord..."

I let the sad creature get up and I swept away.

Entering my opulent room, I collapsed onto the duck-feather-matrassed, diamond-and-sapphire-embroidered-blanketed, black-quilted, black-pillowed, oak-supported king-sized bed and sighed. Mortals could be a troublesome bunch. It makes me glad to me a God, and not one of them.

I would have killed myself by now if I _was _one of them.


End file.
